


Unforgettable Darkness

by oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Captured, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Torture, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harold. Where’s my gun?” John asked. Why would he want his gun? Was he going to shoot… oh no.<br/>“No John, do not even think about it.” Harold lifted his head up. “You are not…” John grabbed his cheeks.<br/>“I will not hurt you anymore. I … it’ll be for the best.” John got up and was searching for his gun. And this time Harold almost hoped the drug took him back under.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to M_E_Lover for the Beta reading and collaborating back and forth! All mistakes are mine!  
> Comments and Feedback are greatly appreciated!  
> Also this is filling M_E_Lover's prompt of Reese being drugged and hurting Harold and not realizing it.
> 
> -all medical stuff is from Dr. Google, so if something is wrong... well point it out and I'll fix it.

Harold could feel the restraints digging into his wrists and ankles as he regained consciousness. His back was throbbing relentlessly which told him he must have been sitting in the chair for a while. He couldn’t quite recall how he had gotten there though. The last thing he remembered was going into Professor Whistler’s office early in the morning and then nothing after that. He could still feel his phone in his pocket though. Were his captors amateurs? John would surely be there in no time, once he found out Harold had been taken and then he would have tracked his phone. And if not John or Shaw then Root or Fusco, someone would definitely find him. He heard dripping from what must have been a nearby pipe. It smelled musty and he was in a large room surrounded by concrete walls and some type of industrial equipment. Then he noticed a table with an array of …instruments… a variety of knives and scalpels, and some sort of battery with electrodes attached. Nearby there was a back board and a huge barrel with what he presumed was water and there was other hardware he couldn’t readily identify.  All of a sudden he heard the door open. It was John.

“Harold?”

“Over here Mr. Reese.” Harold yelled. John made his way over to Harold. He was so relieved he didn’t notice the man sneaking up behind John and stabbing him in the neck with a needle until it was too late. Harold watched John collapse to the floor with a thud. “John?!” Harold frantically yelled.

“Don’t worry Harold. He’ll be fine. Well for a while anyway. Can’t say same for you though.” A familiar voice spoke to him from behind. Where had he heard that voice before? Then the woman stepped in front of him and he knew. It was his secretary Ashley from the college. But why was she doing this? And how did she know about his “situation”?

“I’m sure you’re very… surprised. To say the least.” She walked up close to him and put her hand on his sweaty cheek. “You see, I’ve been following you for quite some time Harold. And I see you and John here meeting and well you two are so… cute. Well when I saw the type of relationship you two have, I got a bit jealous.”

Relationship? Jealous? What was she talking about? “J…John and I are just friends!” Harold exclaimed as his cheeks reddened.

“Harold. Please don’t take me for a fool. I know you two are together. Which means I need to get him out of the way so we can be together. You see, I’ve wanted you for a long time. When I first started working for you I thought it was just a crush, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And well when I asked you out and you graciously declined, I knew I’d be forced to take matters into my own hands. You see I plan on hurting you and John like you hurt me when you just blew me off like a piece of dirt.” Harold could not believe what was happening, she must be insane!

“Ashley I…. Please let us go. You don’t want to do this.” He pleaded even though he knew it would be pointless.

“Harold, Harold, Harold… I really don’t think you understand. I have to do this. So you can feel the way I felt.” She walked towards John who was now sitting upright in a chair that the man who knocked him out had put him in. “John here has a very… colorful CIA background. Of course you already know that. But what you may or may not know is the CIA teaches its operatives some very… invasive torture techniques. And the drug we gave your “friend” John, is going to basically hijack his brain and let us tell him who the bad guy is” she pointed to Harold “and who the good guys are.” She said pointing to herself and her associate. Just then John was starting to stir back to consciousness…

“Wake up John.” She said smacking him in the face. He had a fogged over look in his eyes and just stared at her. “You were just getting ready to torture this suspect to find out valuable information about his base of operations.” She said pointing to Harold again. John looked over at Harold with a hardened glare. Harold hoped John’s mind could overcome whatever they’d given him, he’d been trained in the CIA to withstand certain drugs, and he hoped he could do it with this one.

“Yes mam.” And with two words… Harold’s heart broke.

“Well get to it then.” She said patting his back. She and the other man started walking out of the room, “Have fun Harold. We’ll be back soon.” The door slammed behind them and John looked around the room and saw the table with the ghoulish supplies Ashley had left for him. Harold didn’t know what to do, the only thing he could think of was to try to get Reese to snap out of it, to come back to reality.

“Mr. Reese look at me. John look at me! Do you know who I am?” He pleaded. All John did was search through the supplies on the table seemingly deaf to his desperate cries’. “John! It’s me Harold, please!” he started to struggle under the restraints.

“Look, don’t fight it. It’ll all be over sooner if you just tell me what I want to know.” Reese sighed boringly.

“John… please.” Harold whimpered as John picked up a knife.

“Listen. Just tell me what I need to know, and you can leave. I’ll let you walk right out of here unscathed.” Something told Harold that he wasn’t going to be walking out of here. He had to get John’s attention. John wouldn’t hurt him. But the problem was… it wasn’t _John_ he was talking to right now, not the John he knew anyway.  Harold felt the knife at his thigh… “Last chance.”

“John…” was all Harold said as he closed his eyes. He felt the sharp point of the knife slip into his thigh. His adrenaline was coursing through his body so fast he initially didn’t even feel the pain. But when Reese pulled it out slowly and he saw the blood seep out of the hole in his trousers, it all kicked in. _Apply pressure_. He was trying to rip his hands free from the restraints to put them over the oozing aching wound in his leg but he couldn’t. He was just making matters worse, the last forceful thrust of his shoulders made him jerk his neck sideways and he screamed in pain.

“What do we have here…?” Reese said as his head perked up. He walked over and ran his hands down the back of Harold’s neck carefully. “By the position of the scars and the stiffness…I’d say… spinal fusion surgery?” Harold didn’t answer he just kept looking down at his shoes breathing deeply, trying to ignore the pain. He’d need to get this pair re-shined after this. If there turned out to be an “after this”. “So… it probably hurts like a bitch when I do…. This.” Reese said as he jerked Harold’s neck to the side. Harold screamed out a cry that made Reese grin. “Yup. Thought so. So do you want to tell me now Harold? If that’s even your real name.” John scoffed.

“J…John…” Harold lifted his head up as best as he could. “That _is_ my name. We’ve known each other for 4 years now.” Tears were streaming down his face. “Please. You have to remember! How can you not recognize me?!” His voice was starting to go hoarse, he was sweating and trembling from the pain and stress of it all. He couldn’t believe a drug could completely overtake the mind of the man he had grown to be the best of friends with over the years. Maybe if he could say something that John would recognize him from he could get him to snap out of it. “Mr. Reese. This isn’t your purpose!” Reese’s head jerked up from looking down at the table searching for his next weapon of choice.

“What did you say?”

“This… this isn’t your purpose.” he was almost willing John to remember.

“Harold? What happened… who did th…?” It was John again!

“Mr. Reese! Please just untie me I’ll explain later!” Harold begged.

“D…did I...? Oh my g...” John looked sick. He started to walk over to Harold to untie him but suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. “Why don’t you tell me where your operation is based at?”

“Damn it.” Harold breathed out. John turned around to look at him then back to the table again. This time he grabbed the backboard and a water jug, he set the board down angling it so Harold’s feet would be elevated. _No_ …. Harold had read many of the reports from the 911 suspect interrogations. _Water boarding._ John picked up a knife as well and made his way to Harold.

“Well I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’re not much of a fighter” he said with a fiendish grin. So you shouldn’t give me much of a problem when I cut you loose. Reese held the knife to Harold’s face. “Well… just… don’t give me any trouble.” Reese cut Harold loose from the chair and dragged him to the floor. He pushed him onto the board and strapped him down, Harold could do nothing more than comply, the pain from his aching and mistreated body was adding to his intense fear and he was terrified of what was coming next but he couldn’t bring himself to think that John could go through with it. “So before things get messy… why don’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Harold whispered pleadingly, hoping John would break through the drugs effect once more, he was beside himself with the knowledge that this was actually happening. John draped a hand towel over Harold’s face, his trouser legs were creeping down from his strapped, elevated legs and the bloody throbbing wound in his thigh was becoming harder to ignore but all that was about to change... He reflexively sucked in a deep breath making the cloth cling to his mouth and nose. He heard John lift the jug and suddenly the water plastered the cloth to his face and he couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air and clenching his fists, fighting against the restraints used to tie him onto the board. He tried to take a deep breath in through his nose but the water entered his nostrils, he started coughing and gagging, the next breath was the same over and over again. It felt like an eternity and just as he was about to black out, John pulled the wash cloth off his face.  Harold was coughing and spitting up water and mucus. His lungs rattled in his burning chest every time he tried to take a breath, tears mixed with water as he tried to recover from the onslaught.

“This only gets worse from here.” John said as he was setting the cloth back over Harold’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

Root and Shaw were in the subway, Shaw was throwing Bear’s ball around for him and Root was working on a string of code that the machine had sent her to review. “Have you heard from Harry or the big lug?” Root asked Shaw not looking away from the computer.

“No. Nothing since John went to go get him…” Shaw said walking over to the computer station. “Why are you worried?”

“Well John has never been one to just go off the grid. Especially when Harry’s involved.” Root looked up at Shaw, concern on her face. “And _she_ can’t seem to find them right now either.”

“Well...” Shaw started but was cut off by her cell phone buzzing. She took it out of her pocket and looked it. At first she had no idea what she had just seen. But when she looked at it again it became clear. She was looking at a live video feed of Reese seemingly torturing Harold. She turned the phone to Root who jumped up out of her chair.

“I’m going to kill him. Where are they?!?” she yelled running to the subway car to get her guns.

“Root. Wait. Listen…” she turned up the phones volume, and made Harold’s pleading louder. _John. Please. Look at me. Don’t you know who I am? Can’t you recognize me?! It’s me Finch! You’ve been drugged! Please don…_ Harold’s plea was cut off by John punching him in the stomach taking what air he had left in his lungs away.  “See. There is no way in hell Reese would do this to Harold consciously without putting a bullet in his own head first. It’s John… but it’s not _John_. Can you track this video?” Shaw asked but Root was already running over to the computer desk again frantically typing on the keyboard.

“Where are they?” Root ordered. Shaw knew she wasn’t talking to her. “What do you mean you don’t know?! You have to know! John will…” Root paused realizing it wasn’t actually John. “He will kill him!” There was a long pause of silence that told Shaw the machine was talking to Root. “She’s got something. Not sure what… but it’s something.” She stood up and cocked her gun.

“Well your boss needs to give us a hell of a lot more than a hint because look...” Shaw held the phone up again showing Root the video stream.

#

Harold couldn’t breathe. His lungs were filled with fluid, his chest ached and felt as it were on fire. The knife wound in his leg was trickling blood steadily, his heart was pounding so hard and his neck was stabbing so badly he thought he might vomit. “Jo… John… I can’t…aggghhh” John punched him in the stomach yet again, the pain in his abdomen was growing sharp.  He had been moved to another space in the room, at least this time he was upright but the position did little to alleviate the ever growing pain he felt physically and emotionally but he was able to breathe a little bit easier.

“Why don’t we start with something easy… who’s your boss?” John said with his hands on either side of Harold’s face forcing his head up, he screamed in agony.

“I… I don’t have a… boss.” Harold wheezed. “But you’re my… partner… my... friend.” He was gasping for air raggedly.

“How stupid do you think I am?” John answered and shot another blow to Harold’s stomach, this time when he spit up, it was bloody viscous fluid and he watched it fall to the floor and splatter in an ever growing puddle.

“John Reese… please.” John’s head snapped forward and looked into Harold’s eyes.

“H…Harold. Make it stop.” John pleaded. “I… I can’t control it.”

“John…” Harold almost broke down. John could actually feel what he was doing to Harold but could do nothing to stop himself. “Come on John untie me and we’ll go.” He untied Harold’s left arm and he had a momentary ray of hope but as soon as he got to his other arm… John was gone again. Harold did his best to try to wrangle free but John’s quick reflexes caught his arm and twisted it backwards.

“Think I’d untie you? Hah. Well now I’m going to have to make things even worse.” John said twisting Harold’s arm even more. “This’ll only hurt for about a half hour then it’ll just be a dull ache.” John smirked as he placed his hand on Harold’s left shoulder and then grabbed his hand. He ripped them each the opposite direction and they heard a loud pop… followed by Harold’s harsh hoarse scream. Harold’s vision started to blur and he felt the blackness closing in. With his last coherent thought he figured he must be passing out from pain, he welcomed it. He’d seen it happen in the movies and to John enough, he knew what was happening. But he never thought that it would be happening to him, not like this. He came to as John was slapping him in the face. “You need to stay awake. Don’t want to miss the party do you?” John had the electrodes in his hands. It was at this point Harold accepted the fact he was going to die, right here in this chair, and it was going to be John Reese who was going to kill him. God he couldn’t imagine what John would do when he actually came around to reality and saw what he had done. “I’ve had electricity used on me once or twice, and look” John rubbed his hands up and down his torso. “I’m just fine.”

“I… know… you’ve told me… before.” Harold wheezed again. John went to stick one of the electrodes in Harold’s leg wound. “In the… library.” Harold whimpered, his head hanging painfully, he just didn’t have the strength to hold it up anymore. John paused… seeming to come around once again. _No… just please… let him kill me. No more waking up. He can’t handle this._ Harold thought to himself.

“Harold. Where’s my gun?” John asked. _Why would he want his gun? Was he going to shoot… oh no._

“No John, do not even think about it.” Harold lifted his head up. “You are not…” John grabbed his cheeks.

“I will not hurt you anymore. I … it’ll be for the best.” John got up and was searching for his gun. And this time Harold almost hoped the drug took him back under.

“John! Stop!” he screamed. John turned around to look at Harold and he had the fogged over look in his eyes again. _Thank God._ He let out a whimper as John walked toward him and grabbed the electrode again. He hovered it around Harold’s leg and then stabbed it into the open wound, and flipped the switch. Harold was screaming inside, his body was convulsing, instinctively trying to jerk away, his muscles were clenching and the electric fire beneath his skin was almost too much to handle. Then it felt like the whole world had stopped. He slumped down in the chair gasping for breath choking on his own spit, ears ringing incessantly. “A couple more rounds of this and you’ll be ready to talk.” Reese stated with a brazen grin. Then the electrode was digging into Harold’s leg again. His leg started to twitch and shake in anticipation. His teeth ached from clenching them together so tightly. He wanted to try to get John back to awareness again, but if he did, John would surely take his own life realizing what he was doing to him. So he couldn’t, he couldn’t make up some fake story either to get John to stop because then Ashley would surely be back and would probably kill John, if not the both of them. He could withstand this, he could do it for John. Shaw and Root would realize something was wrong and then they would find them, he then  suddenly started to feel light headed and the pain and trauma his body was being put through once again began to pull him into darkness.

When Harold came to again, John was untying him. Had John finally woken up? Was the drug finally out of his system? When John looked at him and he saw the darkness in his eyes, he knew he had gotten his hopes up for nothing. “This should bring you around.” John laughed as he tugged Harold to his feet and started to drag him over to a spot at the wall. His leg felt numb, his nerve endings had to have been fried from the electrocution. His neck and back were screaming and his shoulder, true to John’s word, was a dull throbbing ache. His mouth tasted like copper from spitting up blood, he must have bitten his lip when John electrocuted him too because it was swollen. With one swift movement John slammed Harold up against the wall. He fell helplessly to the floor. “Get up.” John ordered. But Harold couldn’t. He couldn’t even move his arm let alone pick himself up. John kicked him in the stomach with a force so hard he felt at least one rib crack. He screamed out and saw more blood trickle to the ground. John picked him up and threw him against the wall yet again. This time Harold smacked his head on the wall and as he was falling to the ground, the whole world faded to black.

#

 “The machine gave me an address to this apartment. She can’t talk to me for very long anymore with Samaritan out there stalking her and the rest of us. I’m assuming that’s why she didn’t just tell us where they were.” Root said picking the lock. “She didn’t say what or who we should be expecting either. But I know you’re quick on your feet Sameen, along with other parts of your anatomy, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” Root finished with a flirtatious smirk.

“My God, John is literally drugged out of his mind and torturing Harold and you still can’t stop with flirting.” Root smiled back and winked as she opened the door. She drew her two guns along with Shaw. They searched every room until they heard noise coming from one of the rooms with the door shut in the back of the apartment. She made her way towards the door listening intently, horrified at what they were hearing and ripped it open. She stopped in her tracks when she saw a women with a big sick grin on her face sitting at a desk watching the same live feed they had on Shaw’s phone. “Put your hands on your head you sick bitch! And step away from the computers.” Shaw put her gun to the women’s head and twisted her arm painfully and lifted her out of the chair.

“Who are you?” Root asked.

“My… my names Ashley… I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be this bad,” she lied… She was trembling.

“Well it’s a little late for that now and I saw the expression when we busted in here! You were loving it! You’re going to tell us where they are and then you’re going to go away for a very long time. That’s if I don’t put you in Harold’s position after we find them.” Shaw grunted.

“546 Jefferson… Queens…” Ashley whispered. Shaw pushed her towards the door and Root dialed up Fusco.

“Lionel, we need your help. Meet us at 546 Jefferson in Queens right now! But do not go in before we get there.”

“Sure Cocoa puffs. Glasses and Wonder boy in trouble?” Fusco scoffed.

“That’s an understatement Lionel, just do what I say.” Root said hanging up the phone. “We’ll deal with this bitch later! Let’s tie her up and decide at a more convenient time how to do it, she won’t be going anywhere!”


	3. Chapter 3

Harold woke up gasping to John dumping freezing cold water on him, it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. He was shivering and was covered in goose bumps. His leg was now numb and he’d fully expected the knife wound to be infected, but that was the least of his concerns. “I told you. You have to stay awake.” John smirked again. He gasped uncontrollably again when John dumped another bucket of ice cold water over him, his body was shivering and convulsing uncontrollably now. His vision was blurry and he had a horrible stabbing head ache. He managed to look up to see John walking over with a scalpel. He couldn’t talk, he didn’t have the strength to try anymore. His throat was raw and his head hurt so bad he couldn’t put a coherent thought together. “Those scars on your neck are fading a little bit… why don’t we… highlight them?” Harold was horrified. His scars were always the most private piece of his past and he hid them from everyone, including his partner, they were a stark reminder of the worst day of his life. A day he would do anything to forget. John walked around behind a trembling Harold, he cut the clothing away that hid them from view and went to work. He placed his hand on Harold’s scarred neck and put the cold metal point on his skin. At first Harold couldn’t feel it, but then the sharp tip of the scalpel sliced into his neck. He was shaking and groaning weakly, praying John would stop. He felt the warm blood trailing down his neck, making its way down his back. John pulled the scalpel away and slammed it back down onto the table. His hands were soaked with Harold’s blood. He was searching for something else on the table when Harold heard a door slam open behind him. John turned around and grabbed a long bladed knife off the table. Harold could barely tell what was going on he was so out of it, he heard loud bangs and grunting and what sounded like people fighting and then it stopped suddenly and he heard a women’s voice saying, “Sorry John.” And then through the haze of pain and exhaustion he saw the tall figure that must have been John fall to the floor. “Harold… Finch! Can you hear me??” Shaw spoke calmly in his ear trying to keep herself from losing it in more ways than one. She gently put her fingers on his neck checking for a pulse and lifted an eye lid… “Shit. Root we need to get him out of here. Now! Fusco come help me.” Shaw untied Harold’s ropes and tried to lift him up slowly, he let out weak and shallow groan in protest. “Harold. I know everything hurts, but we have to get you home. Your leg is messed up and that’s far from the worst of it.” She and Fusco helped him up as carefully as possible especially with his shoulder being dislocated and who knows what else, and laid him on the backboard that Reese had used with the water torture, “Root… can you get John?” Root flashed a glare her way, but saw the look on her face and went to pick John’s legs up, dragging him out the room.

“John’s gonna have one hell of a headache when he wakes up, you’re probably lucky cocoa puffs came in when she did or you and glasses might not be so lucky.” Fusco said to Shaw, he got a death glare in return, but he was right… John would have killed Shaw if Root hadn’t snuck up behind him and hit him over the head with a pipe. They managed to lie Harold down in the backseat of the town car as carefully as possible, Root drove him to the safe house trying to keep him awake by talking to him with no response and Shaw rode with Fusco to make sure Reese didn’t wake up. They didn’t know which Reese they’d get when he did.

“Dr. Tillman? This is a mutual friend of John and Harold’s… we’re going to need your help.” Shaw said as Fusco pulled the car to a stop in the front of the safe house. Root was already there, she had gotten a wheel chair from the hallway of the safe house and had Harold inside transferring him into a bed. He started to stir a little. “Ms. Groves… where’s… how… is John…okay?” Harold was gasping for breath painfully and his voice raspy.

“Harry he’s fine.” Root was almost in tears seeing Harold in the state he was in and at the hands of John no less! “Don’t worry about it right now. You’re pretty banged up. Dr. Tillman and Shaw will be here soon and get you fixed up.” Harold’s eyes fluttered shut but Root snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “You’ve got to stay awake Harry. Shaw thinks you have a concussion.” Just then Dr. Tillman came in along with Shaw and Fusco who was carrying an unconscious John inside.

“In here!” Root yelled from the back bedroom. Tillman hurried into the room after telling Fusco to put John down on the couch and she’d get to him after she saw to Harold. Shaw tied John down, just as a precaution. And Fusco stood watch with Bear in the Living room. Shaw, Root and Dr. Tillman were all in the bedroom with Harold. Tillman patted his cheeks to bring him around as best she could.

“Harold, can you tell me where you are?” She asked,

“Umm…” Harold looked around but he couldn’t quite place where he was. “No..." he whispered… he had a confused upset look on his face.

“Harold it’s okay, it looks like you have a pretty serious concussion.” She ripped his pant leg open while Shaw looked at his shoulder. “Damn.” Shaw gasped sneaking a look at Harold’s infected oozing stab wound. “It’s infected. I’m going to have to open it up and scrub away the infected bacteria and clean the wound.” Tillman said frowning. Harold was drifting in and out. _What did she say? Scrub away what?_

“I need to pop his shoulder back in first.” Shaw said placing her hand on Harold’s shoulder softly. “I’m so sorry Finch, but this is going to hurt… 1…2…“ She grunted and shifted Harold’s shoulder until it forced back into the socket. Fusco heard his scream all the way out in the living room and had to calm bear down before he went and ripped Shaw’s face off for hurting Harold. Dr. Tillman had her stethoscope pressed against Harold’s chest and was concerned by his rugged breaths.

“Sounds like he’s got water in his lungs.” She pressed her fingers to his bruising, purple mottled ribs and Harold groaned weakly just barely able to stay awake. “And at least 3 broken ribs… but we need to get the infection under control first.” She got out a syringe from her bag and set up an IV in Harold’s arm. Then she injected something into it and Harold’s eyes fluttered shut. She asked Shaw to help her gingerly roll Harold onto his side to check the bleeding wound on the back of his neck.

#

John woke up handcuffed to the end table next to the couch. He had a splitting head ache and his hand was covered with dried blood.

“Wh… what happened?” John said putting his free hand over his eyes.

“You… is it you?” Fusco said standing behind Bear.

“What are you talking about Lionel? Uncuff me. Where’s Harold?” John scoffed.

“You mean… you don’t remember?” Fusco asked walking over to John.

“What…” Then every one of John’s memories from the past 7 hours came flooding back. Fusco took the handcuff off his wrist, sure that the drug was out of his system, “Oh my God.” John slammed his fists down onto the couch putting his hands over his face as his eyes began to tear up. “I… Is he okay?” John whispered.

“They’re in there working on him right now… it’s pretty bad.” Fusco sat down next to John. “I know what you’re thinking.” He tentatively put his hand on John’s shoulder. “This was not your fault. You didn’t know what you were doing. It wasn’t you.”

“Lionel…” John started… “I could feel myself doing everything to him, but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t control my body.” He got up and went to walk out the door. “I can’t be here.”

“Hey. He was asking for you. You really want him to wake up and you not be here?” Fusco yelled.

“I tortured him Lionel. I doubt he wants to see me.” John scoffed again.

“He knew it wasn’t you in there John.” Just then Shaw and Root walked into the living room. Shaw immediately peered at John but stopped when Fusco nodded at her.

“Is he okay…?” John asked wiping his eyes, coming back into the room.

“He’s asleep.” Shaw said shortly.

“Shaw…”

“John… he’s in rough shape.” She went over and motioned for him to sit down. “Tillman is still in there with him. From what we can tell, he has 3 broken ribs, fluid in and around his lungs, a dislocated shoulder, a serious cut to his neck and his leg is seriously infected where you… where the knife stabbed him, and a serious concussion.” John’s face was stone cold. Shaw grabbed his face and made him look at her, like she had done with bear so many times. “Do not do this. We… along with Harold, know that you could not help it.” John had tears in his eyes, damn when did he become the type of guy who cried?

“Can I see him?” he croaked.

“Yeah, but let me look at your head first.” She said rubbing her fingers over the lump on his head. “Root got you pretty good. Megan is gonna have to check you over to make sure the drug didn’t mess you up in some unforeseen way…” She moved her fingers in front of his eyes and did all the other concussion tests. “You’re fine. Well at least you don’t have a concussion. He’s in the back bedroom.” She said standing up.

John got up and made his way to the back bedroom. As he was walking down the hallway, he kept seeing Harold begging, pleading for John to wake up but then he stopped begging him to wake up. Why did he stop? John couldn’t remember the parts from when he had woken up from the drug, maybe it was better that way. God he hoped Harold wouldn’t hate him, would forgive him.  But how could he after what he had just been put through, he wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to see him again. As he approached the door he heard not one but two voices. Oh no, Harold was awake. He considered turning around and just leaving until he heard Harold’s faint labored voice…

“Is… Mr. Reese alright?” John managed to open the door and step in,

“I’m okay Finch.” He tried to sound as normal as he could, to keep the tremor from his speech. Megan asked him to go out in the hall with her for a second so she could speak with him. She turned to Finch and smiled, “I will be here for a while Harold, I’ll just fill John in on a few things and he’ll be right in”, and they made their way out of the room.

“Well… The infection that has started in his leg looks pretty bad, she began, I cleaned the wound out and stitched it up, the cut to the back of his neck has been disinfected and closed too. Hopefully the strong antibiotics I have him on will take care of anything that may develop in the near future with those two issues. I’m also a little concerned about the fluid buildup in his lungs. If the water was contaminated with anything, we could be looking at major issues.” She gave Reese a sideways look. “His shoulder has been dealt with, his arm is in a sling for now. His ribs will be very painful for some time and he has developed a fever of about 101 and chills from the infection.”   “Emotionally, he seems…okay… considering…” Shaw must have told her what happened. “I have to go back to the hospital in a couple of hours but Sameen knows what to do if something comes up. I’m sure you know your way around some too, medically speaking, John.” She paused, “You should go in and talk to him, he hasn’t stopped asking about you,” Megan patted him on the arm. “I’d like to do some blood work to see exactly what they gave you and if it’s going to have any lasting side effects, we’ll take care of that after you’ve seen Harold. Go in now… but he needs rest, so don’t be too long.” John thanked her, feeling like a complete and utter piece of garbage as she walked away, what must she think of him? He quietly cracked the door open and saw Harold lying on the bed, he looked horrible… broken.


	4. Chapter 4

“Mr. Reese.” Harold said trying to sit up. John rushed over to help him. He saw the stitches on his neck, his bandaged leg, his arm in a sling, the way Finch couldn’t even lift himself up or take a deep breath because his lungs and ribs hurt so bad, and all the other cuts and bruises that were all over him and he couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Damn it. Finch I’m so sorry.” John started but Harold cut him off.

“John stop. You were drugged, I’m just glad we’re both okay.”

“You’re not okay Harold. Look at you, I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t. I’m okay, really John. Look at me.” John sat down on the edge of the bed but he still wouldn’t look at him. “John.”

“Harold… I should leave. You shouldn’t and don’t deserve to have to look at me after this. I’ll just…”

“You will do no such thing Mr. Reese. I’m going to be fine. You had no control. Please look at me John.” John finally looked at Harold, revealing the tears in his eyes, feeling so unworthy of Harold’s forgiveness and understanding.

“Look at yourself Finch. I did that to you. I can’t stay here and look at you knowing I did all of this.”

“But Mr. Reese _… you_ didn’t do this.” Harold started to cough painfully and John moved closer and started to rub his back carefully. “So… please… stop… acting like… it was… your fault.” As Harold tried to take a deep breath the pain from his ribs shot through him like a lightning bolt and he closed his eyes and grimaced trying not to black out. John helped him lie back and put a cold cloth to his forehead. “Okay Harold, I’ll stay if you just try to rest and relax.” Harold was feverish and he was shivering uncontrollably, which only made the pain everywhere else in his body much worse. Reese tucked a comforter around him carefully, “Try to get some sleep Harold, I’ll be out in the living room if you want me.” John felt so helpless. He hated himself for the nightmare that they now had to deal with. He wanted nothing more than to erase the past few hours.

“John…” Finch wheezed.

“Finch, I promise I won’t leave.” John said. He turned around to leave the room then glanced back only to see that Finch was already fast asleep. He was almost afraid to let Harold sleep because he knew about the nightmares that would most likely follow. Shaw was standing outside the room propped up against the wall… just in case. “Afraid I’m gonna lose it and actually kill him this time?”

“No… just cautious. We just don’t know what she gave you John. So stop being a whine ass.” He rolled his eyes and walked out into the living room and saw Dr. Tillman setting up the supplies she needed to take John’s blood.

“Sit down John.” She noticed the distraught look on his face and motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table.

“I’m fine Megan. Finch is the one who needs you right now. He was shivering pretty badly and he’s burning up.” John stated frustratingly.

“Shaw will go check on him in a little bit. But you know as well as I do that he’s going to be in rough shape for a while John.” She motioned for him to sit down again. “The infection is bad, which means he’s going to have a fever and chills until we can get a firm handle on it. Now sit down.” John sighed and pulled out the chair and sat down. He rolled up his sleeve and turned his arm so she could stick the needle in. She wrapped a rubber strap around his muscular bicep... “Little pinch…” he knew the drill by now and had zoned out until she was taking the needle out of his arm applying a cotton ball as she pulled it out. “Okay I’ll take this to the lab and get the results back to you by tomorrow.” She stood up and Reese put a band aid on the needle prick. He flexed his hand and stood up. “I have to go back to the hospital, but I’ll be back in the morning” she said. Reese glanced at his watch and realized it was almost 3am. “If anything… and I mean anything changes, I want you to call me.”   
“I will.” Reese said staring down at the floor. Megan began to walk to the door unsure of anything else to say, “And Megan…” Reese looked up at her. “Thank you.” She smiled at him weakly and walked out. He thought about staying out of Finch’s room, but he just couldn’t stop himself from going in. Shaw was checking the monitors and replacing the washcloth on his forehead. Reese sat down on the stool that Shaw had brought in earlier. Looking at Finch lying there, unconscious in his abused and damaged body and listening to his drawn out ragged breathing, he began to scowl.

“Who did this to us?” he asked.

“Some psychotic girl. She said her name was Ashley. I’ve got her tied up where we found you guys. I didn’t want to bring her here, I think she knows… Professor Whistler.”

“You don’t think she…” Reese asked assuming the worst and expecting Greer to show up on their front door step at any moment.

“John. You two were in there for at least 7 hours. If Samaritan had anything to do with it you’d be long gone by now.” Shaw scoffed. “Root and I are getting ready to go pay her a visit actually.” John went to get up, “You are not going.” She slammed him back down in the chair. “We’re not about to leave Harold alone here with Lionel first off, and besides we don’t know what the drug did to you yet.”

“I’m fine. I’m going Shaw.”

“Reese, I know what you’re feeling and I’m probably the only one around here who really knows what that feels like, but I’m not letting you go. And any handcuff or restraint I try to put you in, I know you’d just get out of and follow us anyway. So I’ll leave you with this…” she kneeled down in front of him and looked into his dark blue eyes. “As soon as he was lucid enough to remember his own name… he asked if you were okay John.” She stood up and brushed off her shirt. “Not complaining about the hellish pain he’s in, not worrying about himself… he wanted to make sure you… the person who had put him in that position…” she pointed at the bed, “were okay.” She got up and walked out of the door without another word and John sat there speechless, numbly looking at Harold and what he had done to him.

#

“Wake up bitch.” Shaw said kicking Ashley in the leg.

“Please let me go…” she whimpered. “I promise I’ll stay away from Harold. I just want to go home.”

“Well I don’t think you’re going to be going home anytime soon, but I mean you can hope for whatever you want.” Root replied. “Now we’d like to know just exactly what kind of drug it was you gave to John, and if it’s out of his system now.” She knelt down next to Ashley. “And you are going to tell me, because my friend Sameen here is not nearly as nice as I am. And if I don’t get the information I want, I’ll invite her over to re-enact what you were enjoying John doing to Harold.”

Root winked at her and gave her a sweet little grin.

“I’m a graduate student majoring in chemistry…” she started. “I got jealous of Harold’s… relationship with John and so… I…” she stopped. “I mixed a psychotropic with a couple of other things. And that’s what I gave to him.”

“And…” Root prompted her while motioning for Shaw to come over and Ashley started talking again.

“It shouldn’t have any other effects on him. Every other time I tested it, it only lasted from 8-10 hours.”

“You’ve used it before?!” Shaw yelled coming over, she knew her way around chemical substances and was far from happy. Ashley stayed silent, turning away. Root stood up from her kneeling position and took Shaw to the other side of the room.

“So want me to put a bullet in her head now? Or just call Lionel to lock her up after I’ve had my fun with her?” Shaw asked.

_“She_ hasn’t decided yet…” Root sighed.

#

“No. No Mr. Reese please… stop!” Harold screamed, writhing in pain. John pressed the barrel of the gun to his own temple...

“Sorry Harold.” And pulled the trigger. But then he heard a voice calling from far away. It sounded muffled, like he was under water.

“Finch...Harold, wake up, please!” It was John. Harold shuddered awake, making the pain in his neck excruciatingly sharp and vivid. “Harold, hey it’s me John. You’re okay. Do you remember where you are?” Finch gazed around the room realizing he was at their safe house in the city. And by the way he felt, he quickly remembered what had happened. He was drenched in sweat and everything on his body ached. “Finch I need you to relax or you’re going to tear the stitches in your neck.” John gently placed his hand on Finch’s shoulder and smiled.

“Mr. Reese… how long have I been sleeping?” Harold asked still dazed from the nightmare. He raised his good arm trying to tame his matted hair but it was no use.  John noticed affectionately that even in this state Finch was concerned with his appearance.

“Only about 3 hours.” The grin fell from Reese’s face a little. “You should really try to get some more rest. You’re body needs it Finch. Tillman left some more sedatives if you think you need them, I can put them in your IV if you want.” 

“No. I… I don’t want to… have another nightmare.” Finch whispered. John looked away and tried not to punch the wall. If he ever saw Ashley again he would kill her in a second.

“Harold…” John didn’t know what to say, he knew what it felt like to not want to go to sleep because of the things he’d seen. But since he had been working with Harold it had gotten a little bit easier, although he still woke up in the middle of the night on occasion soaking wet with sweat and screaming. Now Harold would probably go through that and more in the days and weeks ahead. The pain would eventually go away, but that wasn’t even the worst of John’s worries… Harold was used to living in pain. John was more worried about the mental side of things. It didn’t matter how hard Harold tried to convince himself, there would still be something in the back of his mind that reminded him that John had been the one that tortured him. “Do you need anything?” he finally asked.

“No…” Harold whispered, grimacing as he tried to move up in the bed. John got up to help him and gently helped him sit up, mindful of his ribs. “Actually Mr. Reese would you get me a glass of water?”

“Of course Harold.” John walked out into the kitchen and searched for a glass, he found one in one of the cupboards and filled it with water, two ice cubes, and put a straw in it so Harold could drink it easier. He double checked all the locks on the windows and doors and made his way back to Harold. He heard him coughing and wheezing and when he opened the door Harold was hunched over in bed clenching his chest and stomach. “Breathe… I know it hurts but you have to or it’ll get worse.” He sat down on the side of the bed again and sat the glass on the end table. Harold stopped coughing and gasped in a deep breath that only made him shudder at the pain in his stomach and chest. John propped up some pillows and eased Harold back onto them so his neck was more comfortable. “Are you ok? I can move…”

“I’m good John. Thank you.” Harold whispered again, it even hurt to talk aloud.

“Okay, I’ll go out in the living room then, give you some privacy. Lionel probably wants to go home and Bear needs to be walked and…”

“Mr. Reese.” Harold looked at him. “Sit down.” He motioned towards the stool next to his bed. Good. Harold wasn’t afraid of him, at least not right now. Maybe it was the fever talking. Reese moved to the stool and sat down. “Is there… another… blanket?” Harold whispered as he started shaking and shivering.

“Harold… I don’t want the fever to get any worse… I’m so sorry…” John felt horrible. All he wanted to do was make Harold feel better. To erase it all.

“It’s okay… John.” Harold whispered. John moved closer to him and laid the back of his hand over Harold’s pale sweaty forehead… “I’m… fine John.” He whispered as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and fluttered shut.

“Damn it you’re burning up.” John sighed. He went over to the table and grabbed the thermometer Megan had left for them. He brought it over and put it into Harold’s ear. He waited until he heard a beep and then pulled it out and looked at the reading.

“103.4…” he scowled. Harold was losing consciousness and he looked worse than he did just five minutes ago. “Harold please stay awake. I’m going to call Dr. Tillman and she’ll be right over.” He said sitting down on the bed next to Harold lifting his eyelids open to check his pupils. _Unresponsive_. “Damn it. Fusco! Get in here!” Reese screamed and ripped his phone out of his pocket and dialed Megan’s phone number.

“Megan. It’s John, Harold woke up about 10 minutes ago and his fever has gotten worse in that short time and he passed out and is unresponsive…” Reese was almost babbling. Fusco entered the room and went over to Finch’s bed.

“Shit. I’ll call Lucy and Ethel.” Reese ignored him, not even realizing he was in the room amidst his horror of losing Finch.

“Okay…. No …yes…” Reese looked at the heart monitor and read the numbers off to Tillman… “Okay… 103… yeah I know… okay see you when you get here.” Reese hung up the phone and took the blankets off of Harold. He went over to the table where Tillman had left their supplies and medications they might need later. He grabbed the syringe that Megan had told him about, filled it, and went over and injected it into Harold’s IV.

“Hey Cocoa puffs” Fusco said as he was walking out into the hallway. “Glasses took a turn for the worse… John called that doctor.” He paused when he heard screaming on the other side of the phone. “Okay just hurry, it looks pretty bad.” Fusco hung up the phone and walked back into the bedroom. He saw John hunched over with his ear pressed to Harold’s chest. “Is he… what happened?” he asked. John didn’t reply he just stayed where he was listening to Harold’s heartbeat. After a few moments he finally spoke.

“I don’t know.” He said sitting down onto the bed and checking Finch’s temperature again. The beep sounded and he looked at it again. His head dropped “104…” he sighed. Fusco knew from having a kid and having gone through all the sicknesses, that 104 was pretty dangerous. Reese sat on the stool, watching Harold, and wiping his face and forehead for the 15 minutes it took Dr. Tillman to arrive. She came into the room out of breath and had another bag full of supplies. She ordered Reese and Fusco around, telling them to grab certain things and to move Harold a certain way so she could work. Reese kept his composure until Harold’s body started shaking and convulsing worse than he had ever seen it before.

“He’s having a febrile seizure.” Megan said calmly. “Roll him on his side.” She ordered John, but he was frozen. The lead weight in his legs and arms wouldn’t allow him move. His eyes were glued to Harold’s seizing body. Fusco jumped in front of Reese and gently rolled Harold over. “John!” Tillman yelled but he still didn’t move. Shaw and Root had busted into the room and pushed John out of the way. He still couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything except stand there and watch Harold’s poor body suffer the onslaught. Harold was still seizing and had foamy white liquid coming from the corner of his mouth. Fusco got out of the way when Shaw arrived and she started to work with Tillman. Root was following orders and helping them too. Shaw looked up from Harold’s quaking body and glared at Fusco, then to John who was still just standing there, frozen. Fusco followed Shaw’s unspoken order and went over to drag Reese out of the room. Reese had never let Fusco even touch him let alone physically drag him out of a room that he obviously didn’t want to leave. Fusco walked over to him and grabbed his seemingly lifeless long dangling arm, pulling him towards the door. Reese didn’t even turn his head to look at him, eyes glued to Harold.

“Come on John.” Fusco whispered as he was trying to guide John out of the room. John’s legs were suddenly moving and Fusco was guiding him out and into the bedroom next to Harold’s. He shut the door behind them after Bear had slipped in between them. Reese slumped down onto the bed and buried his face into his hands. Bear jumped onto the bed next to him and nudged his nose into John’s hands.

“Naar beneden Bear.” John ordered and Bear jumped off the bed and went to lie down next to the door.

“He’ll be okay.” Fusco assured Reese as he shoved his face into his hands again. “Glasses is a tough little SOB.”

“He’ll never be okay Lionel.” John sighed. “What he went through… he’ll never be the same.” John finally stood up and was clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles were a ghostly white. He started pacing back and forth and Fusco stood watch carefully. Hoping Reese wouldn’t try to leave because there was no way he would be able to stop him. In the middle of thinking of ways to maybe cheap shot Reese and knock him out if he tried to leave, he saw Reese stop at one side of the room next to the wall and draw back his hand. He slammed his fist against the wall over and over. Fusco ran over wrapping his arms around Reese’s chest and dragged him to the floor. Reese was sobbing uncontrollably. God Fusco couldn’t believe what was happening. He didn’t even know the man was capable of completely losing it. “Why does everyone… I get close to… get hurt…” Reese sobbed and wheezed between words. Fusco had no idea what to say so he just pulled Reese closer, not knowing what would happen and half expecting wonder boy to snap out of it and give him an elbow to the stomach. The sobbing subsided and Reese seemed to be getting back to himself again. “Let go of me Lionel.” Fusco gladly released him and they both got to their feet. Reese’s hand was a black and blue bloody mess.


	5. Chapter 5

“We need to take care of that.” Fusco said pointing at Reese’s hand. “I’ll go get some bandages.” He started to make his way out of the room, stepping over bear who was still guarding the door. He returned with gauze, bandages, antiseptic and a washcloth. Reese took care of his hand on his own and wrapped it up. He was cleaning up when Shaw and Tillman came into the room. Shaw shot a look at his hand and didn’t even bother to ask what had happened.

“Is he…” John started.

“He’s got pneumonia. Which is what caused the febrile seizure triggered by the sudden temp spike, it normally happens in children but there are of course exceptions.” John held his breath. “I have him on clarithromycin which is a heavy antibiotic. We managed to get his temperature down to 102, and hopefully it’ll keep falling.” Tillman said and John let out his breath. “He’s far from out of the woods, but the worst should be over. He hasn’t woken up yet, but you can still go in if you’d like.” Reese nodded.

“Root and I are going to go get some food, we haven’t eaten and neither have you. And we have to get this prescription filled for Harold.” Shaw said to Reese. She told Lionel that he could go home, he didn’t want to at first, but he figured John wouldn’t really want to see him right now after what they had just been through. Shaw and Root left to go get food, while Tillman and John stayed at the safe house.

“You should get some sleep John. I know it’s been a long day. And what happened to your hand? Do you want me to look at it?” Tillman asked as they were walking into the back bedroom.

“I’m fine.” John said opening the door to Harold’s room. Harold was still sleeping, he looked worse than he had when John first saw him. “How long is he going to be asleep?” John asked.  
“I don’t know. His body needs all the rest he can get so I’m letting him sleep as long as he can. When he wakes up I might sedate him. It all depends on how he feels when he wakes up.” Tillman checked Harold’s temperature again and John sat down, this time he slid one of the chairs over next to Harold’s bed out of the way so Megan could still get where she needed to be if she had to. “He’s in rough shape John. Pneumonia is nasty enough and having it combined with the infection in his leg and all of his other injuries, it’s going to be a long tough road ahead.”

“I know…” John whispered. Megan left the room and he watched Harold’s chest rise and fall, only looking up when she reentered the room frequently to check Harold’s vitals and his temperature. Root and Shaw came back with food and medicine, but John never moved from Harold’s side. The three women were out in the living room, eating the Chinese takeout that was brought back and John was sitting in the chair trying not to nod off, the beeping from the heart monitor was keeping him awake, it wasn’t a bad thing, it meant Harold was alive. Spontaneously he heard Harold gasp. He shot up and moved closer to the bed.

“John?” Harold asked barely loud enough for John to hear him.

“I’m here Finch.” John reassured. “How you feeling?”

“Not particularly well.” Harold groaned back. “What… what happened?” he asked.

“Your fever got up to 104 and you were unresponsive so I called Tillman and she came over as quickly as she could. A little while after she got here you had a seizure because your temperature was so high. You have pneumonia which is what made it get so high.” John sighed and grabbed a washcloth from beside the bed to wipe the beads of sweat from Harold’s forehead. “I’ll go get the girls and tell them you’re awake. I’ll be right back.” John made his way out the door and motioned for the three women telling them Harold was awake.

“Welcome back Harold.” Dr. Tillman said sitting on the side of Harold’s bed. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her penlight clicking it on. “Can you follow my finger for me?” she moved her finger back and forth and side to side with Harold’s foggy eyes following it. “Good.” She unwrapped the stethoscope from her neck and lifted up the pajama shirt they had put him in and pressed the cold metal circle to his chest. “Deep breath.” He tried, but only ended up coughing and hacking up green mucus followed by grumbling from the sharp pain shooting in his ribs. Reese couldn’t stand to watch, he had to leave, and he went to walk out but Shaw saw and grabbed his arm. He remembered what she had told him earlier, and slowly turned around and stayed.  Megan finished her exam, “now I can give you something to make you sleep if you want Harold. But if you feel that you don’t need it, I won’t make you.”

“I think I should be fine for now Dr. Tillman.”

“Okay, well I have to go, but I’ll leave everything here in case you want it later. I want you to stay in bed for at least another two days. I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on your progress.” She stood up and started to make her way out of the room. “Sameen and John, I’d like to go over a few things with you before I leave.” John didn’t move, he just gave Megan a look that said he wasn’t leaving. Root made her way over to Harold and sat down in John’s chair.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble John. Don’t worry.” Root reassured him with a smile. Most of the time he’d think she was just being sarcastic or a smart ass. But this time… she was genuinely concerned and not just for Harold. John and Shaw made their way out into the hallway to listen to Tillman. She set them up with a variety of things just in case they needed them and told them when to give him certain medicines and at what time. “I didn’t put a catheter in, so he’ll have to have help getting to the bathroom or he could use the bed pan if necessary. I don’t want him walking on that leg yet though… so I’ll leave this wheelchair here.” She left after explaining a few more things, more for John’s benefit rather than Shaw’s. 

“Well… Since I know you won’t leave his side, I think Root and I are going to try to get some sleep. Think you’ll be okay? We can stay here just in case something happens if you want us to.”

“I’ll be fine.” He said starting to walk back to the bedroom until Shaw grabbed him again.

“You need to eat something at least. You’re not gonna do him any good if you’re starving _and_ sleep deprived.” He rolled his eyes at her and grabbed a granola bar off of the table.

“Happy now?” he chastised as she brushed by him making her way back to one of the spare bedrooms. John forced down the peanut butter bar and went back to Harold’s bedroom. He and Root were talking, about some computer thing John assumed. “Shaw said you two are going to bed.” John said leaving the door open behind him.

“Well I guess that means I have to go Harry.” Root grabbed his hand. “I’m… glad you’re okay.” She said with tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

“Thank you Ms. Groves.” He said quietly. Root got up and brushed past John as she left. John stood in the doorway for a while until Harold started to cough again. It wasn’t as bad as earlier, but it still resulted in John grabbing the pail that was left on the table so Harold could spit up more green mucus.

“Are you… do you need anything?” John asked getting up to rinse out the container.

“I… I have to go to the bathroom.” Harold started. His head fell back to the pillow. “But I can barely… even lift my head up without being… out of breath and everything hurts.” He sighed. John cleaned out the container and came back into the room.

“Okay. Let’s get you into the bathroom. I’ll go get the wheelchair Tillman left.” Reese went to get the wheelchair and brought it back in. “I think it’ll be easiest if we just kind of slide you…”  
“Mr. Reese… please just do it.” Harold whispered. He had a look of utter helplessness on his face which killed John.

“Okay Harold…” he took off the blankets and carefully slid Finch’s legs over so they were hanging off the edge of the bed. He helped him sit up, which brought a deep heavy whimper out of Harold. “Okay ready… 1, 2…3” John slid Harold into the wheelchair and got behind him to wheel him into the bathroom. “Think you’ll be okay once I help you stand up?” John started, “you need to try to keep as much pressure off your leg as possible.”

Harold sighed and closed his eyes. “Mr. Reese I don’t think I can even stand on my own” Harold sounded completely dejected.

“Okay. I’ll stay here then. Let’s get you up…” John put his arms under Harold’s armpits and helped him to his feet. Harold finished and John helped him back into the chair and wheeled him into the bedroom where he sat him onto the edge of the bed. “We should get you into some fresh pajamas, these are soaked with sweat.” John said walking over to the dresser. He pulled out a soft long sleeve cotton t-shirt and matching pants. He took Harold’s sling off carefully and unbuttoned his soaked pajama shirt and slid it off, Harold shivered at the loss of clothing. He rolled up the long sleeve shirt and slid it over Harold’s head. Taking the same precaution with the pants, he slid the pants up Harold’s legs and hips and tugged soft wool socks over his feet. He slid the sling back over Harold’s head and put his arm into it. John propped up some pillows and helped him lie back down. Harold clenched his eyes shut and tried to take deep breaths waiting for the pain to die down and subside a little bit. John tucked the comforter around him and brought over the thermometer and put it into Harold’s ear.

“101.8… well at least its coming down.” John said with a slight grin, he was relieved more than he could put words to. He sat down in the chair and looked over the stitches on Harold’s neck making sure they still looked okay.

“What happened to your hand John?” Harold asked opening his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it Finch, you should see the other… wall.” John said hoping to lighten the mood. He was rewarded with a slight smirk from Finch. They sat there for a while before John broke the silence. “You should eat something Finch.” Finch opened his mouth to object but Reese continued, “I know you probably don’t feel like it, but it’ll help.”

“Okay. But just something light, I have absolutely no appetite…” Harold croaked back. “And maybe a glass of water.” John made his way out into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of Jell-O and a glass of water.

“Here we go…” John said setting the Jell-O on the end table. “Here…” he grabbed the glass of water and put the straw in it and lifted it to Harold’s mouth. He sipped and then John opened the Jell-O and lifted the spoon to Harold’s mouth. Harold glared at him for a minute and then finally opened his mouth. “Come on Finch, its strawberry, yummmm…” Harold gave him an unimpressed look. Once the cup was finished John tossed it into the trashcan. He sat back down and Harold sank back into the pillows. He wasn’t shivering as bad anymore, but he was still sweating. John went into the bathroom and wet down a washcloth and brought it back to lie it on Harold’s forehead.

“Thank you John…” John sat back down in his chair. “Did… what happened to Ashley?” Harold asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Shaw and Root paid her a visit. Other than that… I don’t know Harold.” Reese knew that if he were to go anywhere near the psychotic bitch he would end her. Harold closed his eyes again, John didn’t know what to think.

“And… how are you doing Mr. Reese?” Harold asked, his eyes still closed.

John couldn’t believe he was asking about him. All he wanted Harold to do was get better. Not worry about the horrible man who had almost killed him. “Don’t worry about me Finch. You just need to worry about getting better.”

“If you would like me to get better Mr. Reese, then you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened. Because I do not hold you accountable in the least.”

John didn’t want to argue, it would only upset Harold and he didn’t need that right now, “Okay Harold.” John sighed. Harold started to shiver again.

“Are you… sure I can’t have another blanket?” he asked John. Snuggling up with the one he had on.

“Yes…” John sighed trying to think of something that would help. “Harold… do you trust me?”

“Of course Mr. Reese.” Harold sighed. John moved over to the side of the bed and slid in next to Harold. “What are you...?” Harold started.

“Trust me… it’ll help.” John started and slid in close next to Finch hugging him close being careful of his injuries, using his body heat to calm Harold’s trembling. 

“What if you… get sick?” Harold asked. He was so exhausted he didn't even realize exactly what John was doing.

“I’ll be fine Harold. Try to get some sleep.” John said already feeling Harold’s body calming down.

“Okay… John…” Harold breathed out closing his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Harold had fallen asleep with John rubbing small circles into his palm. John had fallen asleep soon after. He woke up to the sound of Shaw quietly opening the door. She walked over to Harold’s bedside with a syringe and a new IV bag of something with a smug look on her face. John carefully took his arm out from underneath Harold and got off the bed. “Tillman called, she wants us to start him on Hydromorphone for the pain.” After she received a raised eyebrow look from Reese she explained more. “It’ll let him stay awake and alert longer than he would on straight morphine.”

“Morphine’s stronger though right?” he asked sitting down in the chair.

“Yes John.” She answered hanging up the IV bag.

“Well then he needs that. He’s still going to be in a lot of pain.” John said.

“John… he needs to start staying awake. We can’t get a feel for how he’s recovering if he’s never awake.” She said irritated.

“Shaw…” he started but was cut off by Harold groaning out.

“Will you two stop arguing? John, she’s right I’ll be fine. Ms. Shaw wipe that smirk off your face.”  Harold said with his eyes still shut. John glanced at the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table that read 9:17am. Damnit Harold had only slept for 2 hours since their last interaction. He had to be exhausted with all of the stress on his body in trying to heal itself.

“Harold. Can you sit up? I need to check you over.” Shaw asked. John got up to help him. Shaw started by lifting up his pant leg as carefully as she could revealing the bandages on Harold’s thigh. She carefully cut the tape and gauze to expose where the knife dug into just hours earlier. The wound was a little swollen and red, but not nearly as bad as it was when they had first treated it, but John’s eyes still widened at the sight. “Any numbness right here?” Shaw asked placing her gloved finger right next to the cut. Harold’s knee jerk response was enough to tell her no. “Guess not.” She said. She redressed it and went to the other parts on him that John had damaged.  “Shoulder looks okay. Squeeze my hand.” Shaw said taking the hand of Harold’s dislocated shoulder. “That’s it? Come on Finch.”

“I was never the strongest person in the world Ms. Shaw.” He murmured.

“Fine, but next time you want your Sencha Green tea… I’m not letting John give it to you,” she threatened.

“You can’t make me do…” John started to scoff but was interrupted by Shaw.

“There you go, that’s much better!” she grinned pulling her hand away. “Might just have to make John start working on the computer and let you do all the leg work.” She joked. She looked over the stitches in his neck and re-bandaged those as well. “How’s your neck and back feeling?” Damnit. John had forgotten about him jerking Harold’s neck sideways, he didn’t think he could feel any worse but the reminders were constant.

“Better. But I’m assuming that it’s because the pain medicine is doing its job for the moment.” John’s head fell and he sighed just loud enough to make Harold notice “My neck, hip and back have been in constant chronic pain for almost 6 years now, a little jerk sideways is not going to make it hurt any worse than it already did, except for right in that moment Mr. Reese. So pick your head up and wipe the frown off your face.” John straightened up in his chair, he felt like a child being scolded.

“Okay. You haven’t been dizzy or anything lately have you?” she asked taking the penlight from the table. Harold answered with a hoarse, _no_. “Harold I know you’re tired but we’re almost done. And I’m gonna need you to stay awake until Tillman gets here later.” She said as she clicked on the penlight. “You know the drill.” She said moving her fingers up and down and side to side in front of Harold’s eyes. She finished the exam by lifting Harold’s shirt to check on his ribs. His chest and stomach were a mix of purple, red and yellow, and he made an almost unperceivable groan trying to hide the extreme feeling of pain he felt from the numerous bruises that covered his torso. “Try to hold still.” Shaw said running her fingers lightly over his ribs and midsection. “Okay. I’m done, you’re doing alright Finch. Tillman’s coming over this afternoon to check on some other things and bring John’s bloodwork results back.” Shaw opened the door, “I think someone’s anxious to see you.” She said looking down at Bear lying on the floor right outside the door.

“Ingaan Bear.” John said. Bear trotted into the room and went over to Harold laying his head down on Harold’s hand.

“Goed Mennen Bear.” Harold whispered picking his hand up and petting between his ears.

#

“Your bloodwork came back normal. No signs of any a drug in your system. Whatever she gave you shows no sign of even being in your system which is very odd and very frightening. If this drug is so easily absorbed and then virtually undetectable it could have devastating results in other circumstances” John let out a sigh of relief, at least it wasn’t an issue for him anymore and he would see to it that the recipe for the toxic drug was destroyed one way or another through whatever means necessary. Ashley would never have another test subject to torture again. He was out in the living room with Tillman and Shaw while Root took Bear for a walk. “Harold’s as well as to be expected. He still has a fever, but it has dropped significantly, though it’s still not as low as I’d like. Everything else is healing and progressing well. I shouldn’t have to come back for a few days. You two know how to do everything, I would like him to start walking tomorrow, think you guys can handle it?” They both nodded yes. “And get him to eat something substantial, Jell-O isn’t going to cut it John,” she smirked at him.  She gave a few more instructions and left. Root got back with bear and took Shaw and Bear with her and went to Shaw’s apartment. John told them they deserved some time off. Only sleeping 2 hours in the past 36 hours made Shaw accept his offer after only a short session of arguing. John walked into Harold’s bedroom and saw him sitting up and in the middle of a coughing fit. When Harold stopped he laid back into the bed and let out a deep wheezy breath. “My chest feels like it’s on fire.” Harold coughed again. John went over to get a jar that Shaw had brought back with her from the pharmacy. The label read _Vicks_.

“This should help, want me to…?” Harold looked up with glassy tired eyes to John who was standing over him.

“Anything that may help to….alleviate this coughing even the… tiniest bit is welcome.” Harold breathed. John scooted the stool over to sit right next to Harold and lifted up his shirt.

“It’s going to be a little…” Harold inhaled sharply. “Cold…” John finished. He was visually reminded yet again at the pain and suffering he had inflicted on this sweet and gentle soul and had to briefly look away. He began to rub it in to Harold’s chest carefully so he didn’t hurt his shoulder or ribs. He didn’t talk afraid it would make the application of rubbing it in uncomfortable and he honestly didn’t know what to say anyway. But he couldn’t help but smile inside when Harold closed his eyes and let a few quiet little moans slip from his mouth at the small relief it provided. John slid his shirt down after a few minutes of rubbing the ointment in and pulled the blanket back over him. “Hungry?” John asked.

“No thank you Mr. Reese. I don’t really feel like eating at the moment.”

“Dr. Tillman said you should eat Finch… and all this medication on an empty stomach isn’t good, please try at least.” John said sitting on the side of the bed. The bags under his eyes were a lot more pronounced than they had been that morning.

“Have you slept Mr. Reese?” Finch changed the subject.

“Finch, I’m fine. I’m going to go make you some chicken soup. And you’re going to eat at least some of it.” John walked out of the room before Finch could object. He came back a short time later with a tray carrying a bowl of soup and crackers, and a hot cup of tea. Harold was lying in bed motionless staring at the ceiling. “Harold?” John asked with slight concern, closing the door behind him.

“I’m fine John. Just… thinking.” Harold sighed. John set the tray down and helped Harold slide up further on the bed. He set the tray on Harold’s lap, being careful of his wound. Harold’s mouth perked up at the sight of the tea. “Mr. Reese, where did you get this? I didn’t have any here, I had planned to pick some up but I hadn’t yet.” All John could do was smirk. “You… shopped for me? When?”

“You fell asleep in the subway one night and you had a list next to you with tea and some other things on it, so I just picked them up for you. I wanted it to be a surprise… this wasn’t really the circumstance I was thinking about though…” John started to frown.

“Mr. Reese, this was the perfect circumstance.” Finch took his hand. “Thank you.”  John lifted his hand after Harold let go and offered the tea cup to him.

“Think you’re up to it tonight?” John asked remembering how helpless Harold looked and felt last night, he wasn’t even able to hold a simple cup without trembling. “If not…” Harold looked at the cup and then looked at John.

“Let me try it. I’m not feeling quite as weak right now.” Harold sighed and lifted his uninjured arm to take the cup but was stopped when the IV line almost pulled out of his arm. “Well… I suppose it’s up to you again Mr. Reese.” Harold sighed. Harold took 3 sips of tea and 4 spoonful’s of soup. “John I really can’t stomach anymore.”  
“Alright, at least you ate something, we’ll try again later.” John said setting the tray on the dresser. He went back over and sat in his chair. “Want me to get you a book?”

“Why yes you can if you don’t mind.” Said Harold. John got up and brought back “War and Peace”.

“A little light reading,” he said with a grin. He set the book down on Harold’s lap, making it easy for him to turn the pages. Then he sat back down. Harold wasn’t even two pages in when he heard Reese’s breathing shallow out and heard a tiny snore. “John…?” Harold asked with no reply. So he went back to reading his book, letting John get some sleep, he felt a bit relieved that at least John would get a small reprieve mentally from the hell they had both just gone through.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Ready Harold?” John said holding him steady on the edge of the bed.

“I think so…” Harold said looking up at him. John helped him stand up with the walker that they had on hand and then cautiously let go. Harold tried to take a step on his bad leg but stumbled, Reese was there in an instant and caught him to steady him again. Shaw was standing on the other side of the room along with Root observing and to offer their encouragement.

“Just try again Harry. No rush.” Root said. Harold took another step, this time it was much smoother and pretty soon he was limping across the floor slowly but surely. He got to the door and turned around.

“Think you can make it back?” Shaw asked. Harold was sweating and out of breath like he had just ran up a flight of stairs.

“Let’s not push it.” John said walking over to Harold to help him back into bed. “Good job Harold. We can do more tonight or tomorrow.” He motioned for Shaw and Root to go out into the hallway. “I’ll be right back Finch.” He said shutting the door.

“Listen John. I know you feel guilty but he’s a grown ass man and you can’t baby him! It’s only going to get worse and take longer if you do!” Shaw exclaimed.

“Shaw…” Reese sighed, annoyed.

“John I know how you feel…” she started.

“No you don’t! You have no idea how I feel! You have no clue what it’s like to do what I did to him and have to see the aftermath knowing it was all because of me!” Reese yelled. “So stop acting like it doesn’t matter and that you wouldn’t feel exactly the same!” He threw the cup he had at the wall, shattering it. “Just…” he retreated… “I’m sorry.” He sighed putting his hand over his eyes.

“We’re going to go get groceries…” Root said. “Let everyone cool off a little bit.” She grabbed a stunned and then aggravated Shaw and dragged her out of the front door.

#

Harold woke up gasping for air and shivering. “Mr. Reese!” he shouted reaching for his glasses on the end table.

“Harold I’m right here, what is it?” John rasped sitting up from the chair groggily.  

“I… I’m sorry, I must have been having a nightmare.” He put his glasses on and checked his surroundings. His shoulder and ribs ached with acute pain which meant he must have been struggling in his sleep. He glanced up at the clock to see it was 4:30am.

“Want me to give you something?” John asked.

“No. I’m sorry John, I can’t, but you can go back to sleep.” He whispered.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You seem to forget that I know what night terrors feel like firsthand Finch.” He got up, “I’ll go get us something to drink.” He brought back some orange juice for Finch and a cup of coffee for himself. After a moment he asked, “So… do you want to talk about it?” It must have been the exhaustion and sleepiness because he immediately hated himself for asking, of course Harold wouldn’t want to talk about it because it was more than likely about John torturing him.

“Well… I have read that talking about one’s specific trauma can help an individual with the healing process… mentally of course.” Harold sat up in the bed. For the first time he didn’t need John’s help, things were looking up. John sipped his coffee and sat back in the chair, anticipating what was to come. “I… you were about to use one of those electrode things...” Harold started and John quickly realized this might be harder for him than it would be for Harold. Harold went to start again but quickly thought better of it. There was a pause, until John spoke up.

“What is it Harold?” he asked.

“Nothing Mr. Reese.” Harold stopped again but continued when John glared at him. “It’s just… I don’t know if you recall or not…” Harold stopped again.

“Jesus Finch just say it.” John was feeling defensive and remorseful all at once.

“You were going to kill yourself Mr. Reese!” Harold let out with tears coming to his eyes. “When you came out of the drug for a short time, you were going to… you asked where your gun was.” Harold winced at the pain in his chest. John suddenly remembered why Finch had stopped begging him to wake up.

“You should have let me Finch, then I wouldn’t have almost killed you.” John whispered.

“How can you be so selfish?” Harold was angry now, “So self-deprecating as to think I would be better off with you dead than me being hurt? It’s maddening! You are not replaceable Mr. Reese, it’s time you accept that fact!” Harold lifted his hand up to wipe the tears away from his eyes. “I _chose_ not to try to bring you back to awareness again John.” Finch said calmly, reigning in his anger at not seeming to be getting through to John.

“Look at you Harold. I did this to you. And I’ll never be able to forgive myself.” John had tears forming in his eyes now as well.

“Mr. Reese please. If you value our friendship at all you will stop blaming yourself.” Harold grabbed his hand. “ _Every single_ nightmare I’ve had since, hasn’t been you hurting me… they’ve been about you actually doing it. You killing yourself and me just sitting there, helpless not being able to do anything about it.” Harold sighed and rubbed his eyes again. “The fact that you would rather end your own life… than hurt me John... showed me more than all of this did.” He motioned over all of his injuries.

“I am… so, so sorry Harold.” John whispered with a tremor in his voice, trying to hold back the tears.

“I know John…” Harold said. “I know…” 

#

It had been five days since it had all happened. Harold was up and walking around, his temperature was holding steady at 99.8°, his cough had calmed down quite a bit and his ribs, leg, neck and shoulder were all healing nicely. “He’s doing remarkably well.” Tillman started. “I’m worried he’s going a little too fast though…” John sighed because he was afraid of the same thing. “Just remind him everything isn’t going to heal overnight.”

“I’m well aware of that Dr. Tillman.” Finch scoffed opening the door.

“Harold. I thought I told you to stay in bed?” She said. 

“Yes but I… need… to get… my …computer.” Finch wheezed.

“Harold get back in bed, you can hardly breathe.” John told him. “I’ll bring your laptop in when I’m done talking to Megan.” Harold sighed and turned around to limp back to the bedroom.

“Maybe take him somewhere nice?” Tillman said. “He’s restless… but his body is not physically ready to do what he’s trying to get it to do.”

“What do you mean take him somewhere nice?” John asked curiously.

“I don’t know John. Somewhere warm. You two could use it after all this. I’ll sign off on it… as long as you text me updates every morning, afternoon and night.”

“He does have a private jet, and I have full access to it…” John smirked. 

Megan winked at him, “then you shouldn’t have any problems.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Good news Finch.” John came into the bedroom carrying Harold’s laptop.

“What might that be Mr. Reese?” He said tugging the covers over his bare legs.

“Tillman said we should go on vacation.” He sat down in his usual chair, the one he had slept in for the past 5 days. “I’m thinking Tahiti, but I don’t know... maybe Bora Bora? Or you know what, let’s stay in the US and go to maybe Myrtle Beach or Miami.”

Harold’s mouth dropped open. He desperately wanted to get out of the safe house, but he didn’t want John to have to babysit him the whole time and he wasn’t prepared for such a suggestion. “John I… what if something goes wrong or… I don’t want you to have to watch over me constantly.”

“Harold. Come on, you’ll love it. The warm weather will be great for you.” He couldn’t think of any other reasons to say no and the look on John’s face told him he wouldn’t be able to say no even if he had a reason.

“Fine.” Harold smirked and John’s eyes widened as Finch smiled from ear to ear.

“So where do you want to go?”

#

John and Harold informed Shaw and Root an hour later, after some protest from Shaw who was worried Harold wasn’t ready to travel yet, Root eventually convinced her that they _could_ use some “alone time” as well. “So it’s decided and agreed upon then,” Reese grinned. They packed their bags, Harold’s medicine, and some medical supplies just in case and were on their way. They chose Tahiti, neither of them had ever been there before and it sounded like a good place after researching the island on line. It had everything to offer a person that wanted to “get away from it all.” Harold had fallen asleep on the 16 hour flight while John had too much on his mind to be able to do any more than cat nap. Harold woke up when they landed by John nudging his good shoulder gently. He still had to wear the sling for at least another two weeks which was as annoying as could be. He was more sore than usual when he woke up, unfortunately his jet didn’t have a bed in it, he would have to remedy that problem as soon as they returned from their trip, he had just never thought he’d need one with a sleeping compartment so he purchased a small jet meant for speed rather than comfort. “Harold look.” John said pointing out of the window at the large body of beautiful bright blue water beneath them as they were approaching the air strip, the view was extraordinary. “I suppose there is something to be said for the tropics,” Harold said with a grin. When they landed Reese helped Harold down the plane’s steps and into the large matte black SUV they had rented.

“Professor Whistler’s salary may be sparse for a few weeks…” Harold said after he received a raised eyebrow look from Reese noticing the SUV. John smirked and loaded Harold, along with their bags into the car. They arrived at the house Harold had chosen for them, a very beautiful two bedroom cottage on the beach. It was secluded, away from almost everything. Harold limped inside, the sand making it even more difficult for him to walk. John grabbed their bags and shut and locked the SUV, then made his way into the house.

“Which room do you want Harold?” Reese asked setting the bags down in front of the door.

“Doesn’t matter Mr. Reese. Pick whichever you would like.” Harold said looking out of the sliding glass doors at the ocean.

“Okay, you can have the big one.” Reese picked up Harold’s bags and took them to his room, then did the same with his own bags. He joined Harold who was still standing mesmerized at the ocean waves crashing against the shore. “Let’s get changed have a drink and go sit out on the deck.” John said patting Harold’s back. Harold still needed a small amount of help to pull his shirt on and off, his ribs and his shoulder were still especially tender, so Reese helped slide his white long sleeved linen shirt over his head and into his arms and slipped his sling back on. When he left, Harold slid on khaki shorts and a pair of brown loafers. John came back with a bright sky blue linen shirt on with black and white checkered swim shorts. They made their way out to the deck behind the house and sat down relaxing at the sound and the view of the ocean.

“Oh, we should text Ms. Groves and let her know we made it.” Harold said taking his phone out of his pocket.

“Sure, but then I’m confiscating your phone and laptop for the rest of the trip.” John said standing up. “We’re here to relax, and you’re here to get better. Not work.” John held out his hand when Harold finished his text.

“What if something happens?” Harold asked nervously, Finch was not a man who was comfortable without some kind of electronic device on his person at all times.

“I have my phone if we end up needing one and there’s a land line inside.” John smirked.

“….Fine…” Harold hesitantly slapped his phone into John’s hand.

“And…” John kept his hand where it was. Harold didn’t look at him, just looked straight forward. “Harold…” John continued. Harold sighed and handed over his second phone, “Happy now Mr. Reese!”

“Atta boy, Mr. Finch.” John laughed and went to hide them inside. John came back outside with two glasses of lemonade. “So I’m thinking we just relax here for a while and then maybe order dinner from that nice restaurant we saw on the way here?” Reese sat down in one of the cozy, plush lounge chairs and handed Finch his glass.

“That sounds like a great plan Mr. Reese.” Finch said sipping his lemonade.

“Are you feeling okay?” John asked. “Need any pain killers?”

“No… no I think I’m fine for right now, I’m ready to start cutting back I believe.”

“Alright, if you’re sure… the view here is amazing isn’t it?” John sighed a little relieved, relaxing back in his chair.

“Magnificent Mr. Reese.”

#

John drove to the restaurant, leaving Harold alone for the first time in almost a week. “Mr. Reese, I will be fine. It will be much easier than helping me in and out of the car.” Harold argued. John finally gave in to him after almost 10 minutes of heavy negotiation. He ordered a bottle of the restaurant’s finest wine along with the food. It only took him about 20 minutes to leave and get back but it felt like forever with him leaving Harold alone, it would take a long while before John was comfortable leaving his injured friend by himself. He made his way back into the house, and sat the food down on the table. “Harold?” John yelled throughout the house.

“In… here Mr. Reese.” Harold wheezed from the bedroom. John ran over and swung open the door to see Harold on the ground. “I seem to have been moving a bit too quickly and grew dizzy which in the end made me lose my balance and fall. I can’t seem to get up.” Harold whispered with his eyes closed. He was sweating and John could tell he was in pain.

“Damnit Finch, I knew I shouldn’t have left you here.” John said.

“I’m… fine John.” Harold opened his eyes. “Just help me up please.” John took Harold’s arms and helped raise him to his feet.

 “The food smells exquisite.” Harold said limping into the kitchen with the help of John’s arm around his back, trying to turn the subject at hand away from himself.

“And I got us a bottle of wine too.” John showed Harold his choice and smirked at knowing he had made a good choice, helping him sit down onto his chair. He set out Harold’s food and poured him a glass of wine, doing the same for himself before he sat down. Eating their food, drinking wine and talking, they actually felt like things were getting back to normal, at least until that night.

#

Sleeping had always been a hard thing for John to do, especially in the military where you were taught to sleep when and wherever you could, and he had never been able to do it so easily after that. The CIA days saw many sleepless nights and even more ten-minute cat naps on planes going from mission to mission. The adrenaline after each job was just too much most of the time “You need sleep boy scout. No matter how tough you _think_ you are, you have to get it when you can.” Kara had told him once while they were in a hotel in Dubai. But most nights he just rolled over on his side so she couldn’t see him and lay there with his eyes open staring at a wall. Which is exactly what he was doing right now, except he was lying on his back staring at the ceiling, listening to the ocean through his window. Then suddenly he heard Harold screaming in his room. Without another thought John jumped out of bed ripping the comforter off as he hurried out of his room and into Harold’s. When he opened the door he saw Harold thrashing against the bed screaming “No!” He cautiously walked over to Harold’s bed and knelt down beside him.

“Harold…” John didn’t want to touch him because he thought it might make things worse. Finch kept thrashing and rolling around until he got his sling tangled up in the sheet and John figured he needed to put a stop to the potential harm Harold may have been causing himself. He put his hand on Harold’s chest, “Harold wake up. It’s me John.” Harold’s eyes snapped open and he immediately winced and groaned in pain. “Try to relax… don’t move I’m going to fix your sling.” John carefully lifted him up and supported Harold’s neck as he untangled the sling. He laid his head back down on the pillow. Finch closed his eyes again and his mouth was moving... he was counting. John had seen him do it before when the pain he was in was too intense to deal with.  “I’ll be right back.” John said turning to go to the kitchen. Harold’s hand was on his wrist before John could take two steps.

“Please… John don’t leave.” Harold breathed out.

“Harold. I’m just going to the kitchen. I promise. I’ll be right back.” Harold reluctantly let go of his wrist and John was back in under a minute. “Here…” John said handing over two pills and a glass of water. Harold took them without discussion which indicated to John just how bad the pain was. “I… do you… what do you need Harold?” John stumbled over his words feeling completely useless.

“Just… please, don’t leave.” Finch said sinking further into the bed, he was trembling. John found himself moving around the bed and soon he was sliding in next to Harold like he had the night Harold's fever had given him the chills. Harold didn’t protest which also indicated to John just how bad the nightmare must have been. John slid the covers back over Harold and himself and slid his arm next to Harold’s, the warmth a soothing comfort to them both. Harold turned on his side wincing and looked up at him. John knew he may be crossing a line. Harold had always been so guarded, stayed so far behind his wall. But now the meds were already kicking in and his eyes were becoming glassy. “John. Don’t ever leave. Please. I can’t…” Harold’s head sank to rest on John’s chest and he started sobbing.

“Shhhh. It’s okay Harold I’m here.” John whispered, his chin resting on the top of Harold’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.” Harold let out a sigh and sank deeper into John’s arms. John was rubbing circles into his back softly over the cotton of his pajama shirt. He felt Harold’s breathing slow and shallow out, “Harold….?” John whispered. When he got no reply, he rolled Harold over onto his back and slipped a pillow under his arm so he’d be more comfortable sleeping with his arm elevated while in the sling. He stayed in the bed next to him, keeping his promise to not leave him, and relaxed down next to his friend and partner, running his fingers through Harold’s soft bristly hair.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is it! I hope you all enjoyed the journey! I loved writing it and thanks again to M_E_Lover for letting me tackle her prompt! And also the beta reads!

Harold woke up to the sun shining through the large bay window in his bedroom. He was fuzzy and unsure of what had happened last night, until he lifted up his head and saw Reese sitting on the bed propped up against the headboard. Harold remembered himself crying in John’s arms, feeling as though he had made a complete fool of himself. “Mr. Reese…” Harold started as he tried to sit himself up as best he could. “I must apologize for the events of last night…I… I would understand if you would like to go home early.” Harold couldn’t even look John in the eye.

“Harold… do you remember when you first woke up and I was going to leave and you wouldn’t let me?” Harold nodded. “Well… I’m not letting you off the hook that easy either and besides, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” John patted Harold on the leg. “Come on. Let’s eat breakfast and then go down to the pier. I’ll make pancakes.” John smirked getting off the bed. Harold was more relieved than he could say. He got dressed and went out into the kitchen where John was standing over the stove in a mint green linen shirt and another pair of swimming shorts. The color brought out the tan of John’s skin. Harold would not admit the fact that mint green was his favorite color so he just said,

“That color suites you Mr. Reese.”

“I figured you’d like it.” John said trying to hold back his grin.

“You what?” Harold scoffed sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Well I feel bad for taking advantage of you… but one night last week when you were on the painkillers… I asked you your favorite color and well…” John could barely conceal the laughter. Finch glared at him irritated that John would actually do such a thing. “You said it was mint green and so when I saw this shirt in my suitcase, I knew I had to wear it.” Harold just glared at him and scoffed.

#

  
“John, come here.” Harold called from his bedroom after the two had gotten back from spending some time down at the pier and the beach.

“What is it?” John was rubbing a towel over his head drying his hair from his shower.

“Look at this.” Harold showed him the phone. John’s brow furrowed.

“I thought I took your phones Harold…?” he sighed.

“Please Mr. Reese just focus.” Harold tried not to grin knowing John was seemingly upset that he had found where he stashed the phones. “I think it’s a number…” Harold started.

“What? Didn’t your machine get the memo we’re on vacation?” John was irritated. “And you’re in no shape to work a case right now!” John went to take the phone away from Harold but he snatched it back. “Mr. Reese. This is a life. And it needs to be saved. It doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not, the machine waits for no man, remember?” John sighed realizing there was no arguing out of this one.

“O-kay, but how are you going to work your computer magic with one arm?” John asked. “Plus I don’t want to leave you anywhere alone… look where that got us last night…”

“I’ll call Dr. Tillman and ask if it’s absolutely necessary to keep the sling on at all times, if that will appease your concern… and John I’ll be fine. As long as I don’t go too fast like I was last night I’ll be okay.”

“Fine. But if you get the sniffles or show any signs of relapsing we’re saying to hell with it and throwing your phone in the ocean.” John scoffed back still feeling put off by the whole idea of Harold jumping back into their work so soon. Harold called Dr. Tillman who agreed it was alright to let him go without the sling, but only for small amounts of time. He booted up his laptop and sat down at the kitchen table, turning it into a tiny base of operations. John couldn’t help but smile watching Harold hack his way into their numbers apartment security feeds. Harold noticed and without turning around to acknowledge him, he just kept typing and clicking away,

“Something funny Mr. Reese?”

“No… no just… good to see you… nothing never mind.” He said and came to sit next to Harold at the table. “So, what do we know?”

“Manu Anapa.” Harold started. “Age 24, planning on moving to the states to attend college, but his father fell ill last year and it seems he finds it necessary to stay around his father’s home to help pay for the expenses and such until his recovery.” Harold kept typing away.

“You found all that out already?” John asked amazed. Harold didn’t answer him, although the side of his mouth twitched up a little.

“Good to have you back Finch.” He smirked sitting back in his chair. “So who would want to hurt him? Or maybe we’re looking at a possible perpetrator? Maybe he needs the money so he gets caught up in something illegal, not that hard to do around here.”

“Way ahead of you Mr. Reese.” Harold said. “Manu has recently been spending a lot of time out of the house late at night and is depressed according to his sister’s social media account.”

Reese raised his brow. “They have social network here?”

“It’s Tahiti Mr. Reese… not the moon.” John got up to go and follow their number around for the day slipping his gun into the small of his back as he made for the door.

“I’m not even going to ask how you got that through airport security.” Harold scoffed.

“Harold, promise me if you start to feel bad that you will tell me…” John said as he opened the door. Harold casually looked up from the laptop screen.

“I promise John…” He turned back to the computer.

#

“Finch, he hasn’t left his house all day. You sure the machine isn’t wrong?” He teased, sitting in a café next to Manu’s house.

“Mr. Reese I’m almost insulted that you still ask that infernal question after all this time. The machine is never wrong.” Harold huffed into the ear piece.

“Finch? Something wrong?” Reese asked getting ready to go back to the beach house.

“No Mr. Reese… you can sit back down, I just thought it’s be nicer to be outside so I moved my computer out to the deck.” Harold said. Reese couldn’t help but smile. “By the looks of Manu’s laptop camera, he’s getting ready to leave Mr. Reese.” John stood up and went to stand outside the café.

“Any idea where he’s going Finch?”

“Do you think I’ve developed mind reading abilities all of a sudden Mr. Reese?” Harold sighed back. John grinned again.

#

“Finch…he’ just bought a gun from a pawn shop down the street.” Reese whispered in his ear piece.

“Well that certainly seems like grounds for you to follow and intervene if necessary Mr. Reese.” Harold answered back.

“Already on it Finch.” Reese breathed back. He was already tailing Manu down the street. He was walking at a normal pace until he turned down an alleyway and started to run, so John took off after him. “Finch I think he made me.” Finch could hear the heavy breathing on the other side of the line.

“Mr. Reese please proceed with extreme caution.” He raised his voice hoping John would hear him, but he knew he wouldn’t listen anyway. He heard a grunt and then a struggle on the other side of the line and then it went dead. “Mr. Reese?!!?” Harold yelled… “John!?” He stood up quickly from his chair and limped inside as fast as he could. He searched for the car keys but couldn’t find them. John must have hidden them before he left so Finch wouldn’t have the opportunity to leave no matter what. He felt himself starting to get dizzy and his chest started to ache. Frantically searching for the car keys for what seemed like forever he heard a breath on the other side of his earpiece.

“You there Finch?” Reese rasped.

“Oh thank God.” Finch sighed and slumped down in the nearest chair his heart still racing. “What happened?”

“I handled it. I’m going to wrap up here and I’ll be back soon.” Reese answered. Harold started to calm down and breathe a little easier.

#

John walked back to the house, it wasn’t very far from where he was after he finished with the case. He approached the door and stood outside for a second trying to calm himself. He had never had this much of a problem after a number before. The machine had never given them a number who was technically going to be a victim and a perpetrator before…well… at least not to themselves anyway. Manu had tried to kill himself. He opened the door to the beach house and saw Harold sitting outside on the deck. “Harold?” John called.

“Out here Mr. Reese.” John walked outside and sat down next to Harold in one of the big plush deck chairs. Finch looked… tired.

“You okay Harold?” John asked turning to look at him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing the sound of you fighting someone and then your line going dead.” Harold sighed. John felt bad, he knew Finch had a tough job on his end. He never knew exactly what was going on at all times and the stress would be terrible.

“Sorry Finch.” He responded.

“Not your fault John. Anyway tell me what happened?” Harold asked sitting up in further in his chair.

“Nothing much. I took care of it I told you Finch. Everything is alright now with the number.”

“John why don’t you just tell me what happened exactly?” Harold frowned back. John sighed and also sat up in his chair to face Harold.

“He bought the gun for himself Harold.” John started.

“Yes I assumed as much Mr. Reese. But what did he…” Harold got really quiet after John glared at him. “For himself.” “Oh.” Was all Harold said for a while realizing the implications until they moved into the house and John poured each of them a glass of wine. They sat down on the couch appreciating the view of the sun setting over the ocean outside their windows. “So…” Harold started. “How did you convince him not to…do it?” He took a sip of his wine hoping he hadn’t gone too far, hoping John wouldn’t retreat into silence for the rest of the night.

“After I tackled him and took the gun out of his hands…I just…talked to him.” And apparently the topic wasn’t off limits as Finch might have thought so he continued his question.

“About what?” John looked at Harold for a moment. Then he started explaining.

“I told him about me. About how I was on my way to take a walk off the Brooklyn Bridge but you and Joss found me first.” He paused at the memory of Carter and Finch knew he had hit a nerve. He almost started to tell John he didn’t have to continue until John opened his mouth to speak again. “Until you gave me a job… a purpose.” They both took a drink of their wine. “And that you changed my mind. That I have people… people that I care about again.” He stopped and closed his eyes. “And I told him about how I hurt you…how badly I hurt you and how I wanted to run again but you didn’t let me. How I couldn’t stand myself for what I did to you. But you never blamed me and you were actually worried about me instead of yourself.” John took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “About how you’re the best man I’ve ever known in every and all respects. And if someone like me can change and have a purpose again and… have someone so forgiving and kind in their lives, like you, that can still care about me… so can he.” Harold’s eyes started to tear up and he closed his eyes.

“I am the one who is lucky John.” Finch opened his eyes and looked into John’s. “I just want you to know and accept that.” John sank back into the couch and scooted closer to Harold.

“Time to put your sling back on.” John said sweetly.

Finch rolled his eyes and realized he was not getting away from Reese’s overprotective self anytime soon while he was recovering, not even tonight. But things were getting back to normal between them and maybe even looking a little brighter. “Just a few more days and we can get back to our real lives” Harold said with a grin. They sat there in silence for a while until John started to laugh,

“You really didn’t tell me your favorite color…” he started. “I didn’t even ask… I just thought I’d have a little fun with you this morning but… the look on your face told me…” John kept smiling.

“Bet you can’t guess my middle name."

THE END


End file.
